Hearing Is Believing
by SwordFirebolt95
Summary: Aliina Genson is a 17 year old seamstress, orphaned at birth in American and raised by the now world renown Madam Constantina, the new lead Soprano at the newly re-opened Opera Populaire in Paris, France just shy of three years after the fire that ended a legacy. While Aliina has always felt alone in her world, she now has never felt more watched.
1. Chapter 1

**Hearing is Believing**

_**A/N: I'm actually working on two "Phantom" stories right now, this being the second, but I just had this thought and couldn't erase it.**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC I made up, the rest belongs to Mr. Webber and Gaston Leroux.**_

_**Summary: Aliina Genson is a 17 year old girl working as a seamstress for the Newly refurbished and rebuilt Opera Populaire two years after the fire and the Phantom. **_

Chapter 1. Shattered Glass

"Sheet!" I hissed, quickly popping the tip of my index finger into my mouth, gently lapping the dot of blood off that, undoubtably had formed there after I'd pricked myself for the fifth time this afternoon. "Aliina? Are you alright?" My dear friend Gabriella called towards me. I nodded in her direction, "Yes Gabby, all is well and good. Just, pricked my finger again." Gabriella sighed, "I don't know how you manage to stitch all that beautiful bead work and design those intracit patterns with your needle and thread." I heard her move out of her desk and walk towards me, sitting with my back against the wall and legs folded beneith me.

"I just can, it's a gift I suppose. Perhaps my mother was a seamstress and I've inherited her gift!" I sang towards her. Gabriella laughed and patted my shoulder, "It truly is lovely, Aliina, I wish you could _see _how gorgeous your work is." She slid down the wall to sit beside me.

I smiled softly, "I can _see _it, Gabby. Just, with my hands."

I finished tying off the thread I'd been using to finish the flurry of beads on the bodice of the gown I'd just finished for my Mistress, Madam Constantina, she was the head soprano of the Opera Populaire, replacing the old Coletta, but no one really missed her anyway.

"I know you can, but, I just...oh you know what I mean." she sighed finally. I smiled at her, "I do, I really do." I felt her fingers cup my left cheek, pinch it lightly then I heard her stand and walk away from me.

"ALIINA!" A shrill voice shrieked up the stairs and into the work room I was presently in. I knew at the way my name wavered as she called it, it was Madam Constantina. "Coming Mistress!" I called down. I used the wall to stand, and gently hung the dress over my arms. Then, gropped the bench next to my right knee for my walking stick.

Once my fingers ran over cold, glossy wood, I clutched it and held it slightly infront of me, and found my way to the staircase that led down into backstage behind the large curtain they'd told me was a deep red velvet. My right hand held the railing of the staircase, with the dress drapped over my left forearm and left hand holding the stick up out of my feets way. "Zere you are!" Madam Constantina called once I'd reached the bottom step and now stood at the end of the stairs. I tilted my head slightly to the side and listened for her breathing, once I'd located her I walked towards her, smiling.

"Oh! Vhat iz dis?" She asked once I'd reached her. I held the dress out, holding it by the shoulders to show her the full gown with its hand-beaded bodice. "Oh! My little kint, it iz perfect! How do you make zem so beau-tiful?" she asked me, wrapping her thin arms around my shoulders and hugging me tightly, the dress pressed between us. I hugged her back gently, then pulled away.

"Well, I ask for a colour of bead, and they hand me a box full! It was very fun to decorate Madam, I hope you like it." I dipped my head in respect. Madam Constantina grasped my chin, her long nails slightly scraping the skin there, and tilted my head up, her eyes most likely searching my face.

"Darling, how can you possibly make such love-ly vork, vithout your eyes?" She asked softly. I sighed, she'd asked this before. "I've explained before Madam, I use my hands and my fingers. It's not terribly hard, actually. Once I'd had enough practice, I could stitch and knit and crochet anything!" I said, smiling, hopefully erasing the pittiful look she no doubt was presenting me. "Vell, zey are very love-ly, I am very, very lucky to 'ave you az my personal seamstress." She patted me atop the head, then I heard her turn away and heard the clicking of her shoes against the hard wood that the very stage was made of. Once she was a safe distance away, I let out a breath. It was very exhausting being blind.

Yes, blind I was, but proud of my work I was also, so I was very happy Madam Constantina liked her gown she would be using for _**Pagliacci **_as the role Nedda. It was a very conflicted role, so I'd tried to make her gown as seductive as I could possibly make yards of silk and lace look. I turned from the front of the stage and slowly made my way towards the staircase, so I could finish Nedda's night gown for Act 2, when I heard something fall and shatter against the ground.

Loosing a sense, sharpens the other four quiet incrediously, so hearing, touch, taste and smell for me were all very strong. I could hear and smell things from miles away, but this didn't sound far, infact, it sounded as if it came from beneath me. Miles under the stage perhaps. A cold chill swept through the Opera house, raising the fair hair on my arms and causing the my flesh to quiver. It sounded like, glass. Shattering onto hard floor or against a hard wall.

'Odd, what could possibly have fallen and created such a noise from so far below us?' I brushed the thought behind me and chalked the noise up to rats in the cellars below.

Making my way up the stairs, my walking stick suddenly hit something infront of me. "Oh! Beg your pardon Ma'am!" A deep voice said towards me, hands wrapping around my shoulders to steady me. I stiffined at this man's touch. "Are you alright? My damn feet can't seem to understand how to walk down a simple set of stairs today, I apologize greatly for bumping into you." He said, removing his hands. I swollowed down the scream that had clawed its way up my throat, and put on my best apologetic smile. "No sir, it's quiet alright. I really should watch where I'm going." I flinched slightly as the words passed my lips, knowing he would too, flinch at them. I didn't mean to turn myself into the unpleasant and uncomfortable blind girl, but it was a curse.

He cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable, and touched the top of my hand, the one clutching the rounded section of my stick. He was wearing cotton gloves, most likely white. "Really, it was entirely my fault. I do hope you can forgive me, for being unconsious of my surroundings." I sqweezed the stick harder, my hand growing hot under his gloved finger tips.

"Well, I thank you for your kindness, though now I fear I am the one who must be rude. I really must get back to work, sir." I said, stepping to the left, so he could pass me easily. His finger tips didn't leave the back of my hand. "Can you make it up the stairs alone, Ma'am?" he asked. My veins ran hot with angry blood. I wrenched my hand away, gathered up my skirst and narrowed my eyes, hopefully into his general direction. "I can make it just fine on my own, good day to you sir. "I said, pushing up the stairs, my head held high, and heard a chuckle pass his lips.

"Strange girl." he muttered under his breath. But I'd heard it.

Strange? He thought me strange?

Well, I think _he's _strange, and I don't even have the foundest idea who he might be! What a rude man!

I entered the door of the sewing room, to hear almost nothing but silence, aside from the small bursts of gasping coming from the other girls in the work room. A hand suddenly grasped mine and pulled me forward, "Quickly Aliina! Come and sit with me! One of the stage hands is telling horror stories!" Gabriella whispered into my ear. My hand was slightly shaky in hers, but I was quiet used to her touch. I was then pushed down onto the bench against my desk with Gabriella's thigh touching mine, and another girl on my left. "It's Lilliana," She whispered to me, out of kindness. I nodded at her with a small smile on my lips.

"Some used to say, he wasn't even a full man. Eyes, dark as the devil's and heart just as black," A rough voice was speaking to us. I didn't feel at all comfortable with his presence, "His hands, they used to say, calloused from hours of tying nouses for his next victim, his blood lust unentertainable." He was walking slowly towards us, his heavy boots clunking loudly on the hardwooden floors. I felt Gabriella's fingers lace with mine and hold my right hand tightly. I could hear her breathing start to spead up.

"But, there was one thing, only one thing they used to say, that kept him human." He whispered, very close now. I could smell the rotten stentch of whisky on his breath and in his clothes. "It was _her._ The girl he _obsessed over._ She was his muse, his only reason to write music." He husked out. I felt my stomach clentch, I'd never delt with Gothic Horror very well. Some nights, back in the rooms in which we'd slept, Gabriella would read poems from Edgar Allen Poe, and read them in different voices with her Latin accent, it was absolutaly petrifiying. I swollowed the fear down, and closed my eyes.

"He watched her every move, calculated every breath she took, noted every time she blinked. He was absolutaly _mad_ over her." The man continued, and I could hear him searching for something in his pockets. When I heard the harsh sound of metal scraping dirty metal, I knew he'd pulled out a blade. Gasps came from the girls, "Some even said, he'd use his very own blood in the notes and letters he wrote to her. Always signing it, _'Your Angel of Music.'"_ I shivered, and heard some girls start to whisper.

"But don't fret ladies, he died two long years ago, and he took his acursed music with him, buring down half the Opera House and dropping the chandler on innocent people, killing hundreds." He was now speaking in my face, my eyes still closed. His breath was wretched, I had to choke down the bile that threatened to escape. "Some even say, he'd _eat_ the people he killed."

I turned my face from his, and felt Gabriella pat my knee. "So next time you feel a breeze and can't find the open window that caused it, or hear something you can't explaine...it's him. Still lurking around the Opera House, searching for his next...victim. For his next...**CHRISTINE!" **He shouted the last word, causing all of us to scream and jump.

Laughter shortly followed, then suddenly all was silent. My eyes were still held tightly shut, my head still turned away from him.

Then suddenly, the same shattering noise echoed into my ears, but it sounded closer. I leaned into Gabriella and whispered, "Did you hear glass break just now?" I asked, she signed the word 'No' into my hand. I sat back and swollowed.

"What is the meaning of this?" A woman's voice boomed. "How dare you speak to them of such gore." The woman said again, her voice followed by a sharp smack onto the floor. I then understood who it was.

Meg Giry, but to anyone who crossed her, Madam Giry. She had replaced her mother in the spring of this last year as the new ballet instructor. She was very strick, much like I'd heard her mother was. Madam Giry had fair blond hair that was always swept up into a tight bun at the back of her head, she wore nothing but black and black and used her mothers old cane as a timing stick. I'd asked Gabriella to describe her to me once, so I could fit an image to the voice.

"Aw come now Giry, it's all fun and games." The man said, laughing gently. I heard her boots walk towards him, then heard a slap break the silence. "Do not speak of the Phantom as if he cannot hear you." she hissed. The man uttered a curse and I heard him exit the room. "We must respect his memory. He was a great man, terrible yes, but great." She turned and left the room, leaving all of us, aside from me, utterly stunned.

I, on the other hand, was completely intriuged.

"Phantom? Whose the Phantom?" I asked Gabriella once Madam Giry had left. Gabriella sucked in a breath, "You've never heard of him?" she asked. I shook my head, "I didn't understand that the stange hand was telling the story of him, but by the words he spoke I assume the Phantom must have been a monster." I said, slightly heavy-hearted. I wished to know of his story.

"He was a real man, he was deformed and wore half a mask on his face, to cover the deformity. He wrote music and loved a woman named Christine Daee, but she didn't love him back. She chose someone else, but I mean, you can't really blame her. She was driven into the arms of another man by a man who didn't know how to treat a lady." Gabriella sighed, "But, he does sound romantic, doesn't he? It was said he left Christine a red rose tied with a black ribbon after each of her performances." She sighed and finally released my hand. "Come now Aliina, our shifts over."

I stood slowly, my head racing with new information. I'd never heard of an Opera Ghost before, no one had ever told me. Well then, I suppose I'd never asked. "Where is he now?" I asked as we desended the staircase towards our rooms. "He died. Or didn't, they aren't sure. All they found was his mask upon a chair, in a lair decorated with smashed mirrors." Gabriella's voice suddenly got very quiet. "It was only two years ago, when Madam Meg Giry found his mask." I gasped, "It was _Madam Giry?"_ I asked, my eyebrows knitting together.

"Yes, she was the adoptive sister to Christine, aparently her father died when she was quiet young, so she lived with Madam Giry and Meg then married Roul and now lives in America far away from all of this." Gabriella said, finishing just as we reached our rooms. "How do you know so much about this?" I asked. I didn't hear her say anything, but I heard her neck pop as she shrugged. "I'm a good eavsdropper." I heard her smile.

We walked into our rooms, where I changed, kneeled towards God then slipped beneath the white linen they'd provided, along with a thick wool blanket for winter and a very flat pillow. A bed's a bed I suppose.

"Good night Aliina," Gabriella yawned towards me. I repeated the salutaion to her, then rolled over onto my right side, eyes wide open in the dark. I wanted to know more about his Phantom character, he sounds so deep and mysterious.

Sleep was tugging at my eyes, and I almost drifted off when something filled the air.

_"__**Masquerade, paper faces on parade, masquerade. Hide your face so the world will never find you..." **_

It was acompanied by a soft violin prelude and what sounded like small cymbol crashes. The violin wasn't what had me out of bed and walking down the hallway towards the stage, it was the voice.

Oh the voice was so raw and thick I couldn't think. It was smooth, it was rough. I had to find where it was coming from. My body shivered beneath the thin chemise I wore. Folding my arms, I walked with my feet out farther than the rest of me, until my toes brushed the lights that lined the stage lips. I knew that five feet below where I stood was the orchestra pit, and above that the seating of the Opera House. I kneeled and strained my ears to catch, just one more phrase of that voice that wrattled my bones.

_**"You alone can make my song, take flight..."**_

There it was! I knew I wasn't daft! I'd really heard a man's voice echo through the air! I leaned down towards the orchestra pit, but only heard the soft blowing of the breeze. Frowning, I sat back, then I'm not quiet sure what possesed me to do this, but I cleared my throat and sang softly back to the voice, begging for more of it's supple sound.

_"Angel I hear you, speak I listen..." _

I hadn't ever sung about angels before, and can't quiet put a finger on the reason I'd sung those words, but I knew that part of me was now craving the sound of his voice, whether this was a dream or real, I'm not sure I could tell. I closed my eyes and listened hard.

"Aliina?" Someone called towards me, shattering the silenec. I turned to face the intruder of my dream, and realized how I must look. Half nude, leaning towards the orchestra pit, eyes closed and singning into the dark and empty air.

"Aliina, why are you out here? I awoke for some water and looked over at your empty bed and became very worried." Gabriella whispered once she'd reached me. With her hands on my back, I slowly stood and swollowed quickly. "I'm sorry for worrying you, I must have wandered out here in a daze, I can barley remember why I'm out here." I lied smoothly, I couldn't tell her about the voice until I had proof.

Gabriella sighed and grabbed my hands, leading me back into our rooms. Part of me wanted to wrench away from her hands, and sit beside the orchestra pit until another sound could be heard, but a small voice in my head whispered, "You might be scared from the story the stage hand had told earlier. You said it yourself, you don't handle Gothic Horror very well."

I felt my face drop, perhaps I was really dreaming.

Then I heard it, a single word drift across the cold air.

_**"Aliina..."**_

__And with a cold and settling feeling in the very pit of my stomach, erasing any doubt from my mind, I knew it could't be a dream, no, that would be too easy.


	2. Chapter 2

Hearing is believing

A/N: So, how is it so far? Okay? Not very bad? Not really that good? Terrible? An abomination? Worse than licking cactus? Well, tough. I wrote more.

D: I do not own anything that doesn't belong to me.

Summary: Aliina is hearing music and voices drift in and out of the Opera Populaire, but she is too afraid to tell anyone, risking her very life in the process.

Chapter 2. Broken Ankles

**I **didn't sleep that night. I laid back in my bed, eyes open yet not seeing the ceiling above me, thought I knew very well it was truly there. That voice…it almost haunts me. I use almost because it was too enticing to be paranormal or satanic. It was gentle and warm…

What struck me most was the fact that I'd sung back to the voice, without knowing what I'd sung or where it came from, I just sang what had seemed necessary. I knew Gabriella wouldn't believe a single thing if I told her I was hearing voices, and I knew that if others found out they'd send me away to a madhouse on an island far away from France or America. So, I'll keep quiet about it; the last person if I recall correctly was a young lady named Misss Daee, she had fallen prey to the Opera Ghost, yet, with her voice she had managed to evade the monster and escape with her lover the Vicomte de Chagny. The story was complete and utter rubbish in my book, there was absolutely no such thing as an Opera Ghost. Miss Daee was a foolish girl with too wild an imagination and too great a taste for dramatic antics.

In my most humble opinion, she was a daft girl and that's that.

When the rays of the sun shone through the curtains, the warmth warned me of a new day. Well, I thought to myself, lying here won't solve anything. I got up, dressed for the day, combed my hair to the best of my abilities and ascended down the stairs until any of the other girls had awaken. I walked down the filling streets of Paris, the busy people keeping a careful distance from me as they passed in hurried fleeting ways. I was going downtown to my favorite café that served an absolutely mouthwatering breakfast roll. Pushing open the glass door, a small bell rang announcing a new customer. "Welcome Aliina! Take a seat anywhere Madam!" The owner called towards me. I smiled in his direction and wondered towards the area I knew a small table with a single chair was located, until of course I overheard two gentlemen talking at the table near my favorite behind my right shoulder. I sat slowly and tried not to tilt my head too closely to listen.

"They're saying Miss Daee, pardon, The Vicomtess has been sent to a _madhouse,_" one man said under his breath before taking a loud sip of his tea. "Finally driven mad by her nightmares they said, her husband, the Vicomte lost his mind. He couldn't care for her any longer and says he couldn't stand the screaming." The second voice mumbled. I felt my heart pick up tempo; I'd just been thinking about Miss Daee, what news could possibly strike up a conversation about a woman who'd left Paris three years ago?

I simply have to find out where they'd learned this news. I turned around in my little metal chair, adjusting my dark spectacles and cleared my throat. The two men grew silent, "Can we help you Miss?" Tea gentlemen asked me. "Yes, I'm terribly sorry for intruding, but, if you please, where did you learn of this recent news concerning Miss Daee?" I asked sweetly. The mumbling gentlemen cleared his throat and aimed his voice directly at me, then loudly he replied, "It's all over the morning paper Miss," I flinched inwardly at his loud tone. "Yes, it states she's been having fits in the night, going on and on about some 'Angle of Music' and dead father of hers." He finished just as loudly. "Mad if you ask me," Tea gentlemen added quite loudly.

"She's blind Endrec, not deaf. She can hear you quite well." A third voice joined us. My eyes narrowed behind my spectacles at his voice, I've heard it before. "Do you remember me, Madam Staircase?" Ah. He was that same bastard from the staircase. "Good morning my Lady," He greeted me. Slowly, he touched my hand with his gloved fingers and when I didn't refuse, he kissed the top. A slight chill ran down my arm. "I am no Lady of yours, sir." I replied sharply. "Watch out for this one Marcus, she is not common French Mistress." Tea Gentlemen, now known as Endrec chuckled. I was growing rather fond of him. "Indeed, no French blood courses through her veins. American I would like to assume, New York perhaps?" Marcus asked me, pulling a second chair up to my small table. "Correct. Yet, I am afraid I have no prize with which to award you." I snapped. Marcus laughed, a sort of welcoming sound I noted sourly. "Your company enough is wish fulfilling." He spoke softly, just for my ears. My face flushed for a brief moment.

"I am afraid Miss, we have not been properly introduced. I am Marcus Del Toro of Spain." Again, Marcus brushed his lips against my naked hand. "Spain? You lack the accent to back your story Sir Del Toro." I accused. He chucked, "Alas, I have been discovered. I am indeed Spanish, my father Angelo Del Toro moved to Paris for work in the Law and Finance, when he lost his heart to a French ballerina who danced at the Opera Populiare, And, I'm sure, I was concieved backstage during God only knows what performance," He stopped to chucke, and without a warning, a laugh burst from my lips. "Marcus! Watch your mouth around a woman!" The mumbling Gentle man called. "It's quite alright Sir, thought I do thank you for your kindess. I fear I have heard much worse. You see, I am a seamstress for the Opera Populaire, a tale of passionate conception no more harms my ears than the sunlight harms my eyes." The gentlemen laughed and Marcus patted my hands. "I fear I fancy your company much more than is appropriate, and I have yet to learn your name." Marcus said, and I heard him start leaning closer to me. I rose quickly from my seat, knowing I'd overstayed my welcome. "And I am afraid you might never learn it. Thank you for the wonderful tea gentlemen, but I shan't be late for work again." I curtsied and turned to leave.

"Once you've learned that dear girls name Marcus, invite her to our noon luncheons. I rather like her witty remarks." Endrec stated. I smiled and paid for my pastry then walked out the door. On my way back to work, I heard a shout. "Wait!" Marcus called to me. I fought back my smirk and kept walking forward, cane stretched out in front of me.

"Ignorant girl, cease your walking!" Marcus shouted at me. Mouth gaping I turned to face him and thump him with my cane. "Ignorant? Is that how you view me, Spaniard? Perhaps earning my name has no favor to you." I towards him, unsure of how close he was. Marcus then gasped dramatically and I was aware he was a mere two feet from my face. "Your name has become a most treasured item I cannot wait to covet for myself." Marcus vowed. He didn't talk again but he didn't have too. I felt naked fingertips brush a curl from the left side of my face, and stick it behind my ear and into my bonnet. "When can I see you again?" Marcus whispered. I blushed brightly at his tenderness. "So forward Spaniard, with only two meetings between us and less than a hundred words, yet you now crave my company so?" I asked gently. My head was spinning at his words.

I hated that he made me feel soft.

"Yes, and I can't quite put my handsomely tan skinned finger on it, but there is something peculiar about you, that I simply fear I've become addicted to." He said with a smile I could hear in his voice. I sighed, "I finish my work at seven tonight. If you don't mind dresses and skirts you can be my company after hours." I stated with a smile, hiding the nervous feeling in my stomach.

"I'm looking forward to it." Marcus lifted my right hand, the one not clutching my cane, and brushed his lips in the palm, then turned to leave me stunned. What was I about to let happen? I've never encountered a man so…frustrating…yet still so intruding. Swallowing my pride was hard for me, but I wanted to know more, going against my deepest fears, more about Sir Marcus Del Toro, the French Spaniard.

**I **was almost positive after the fifth time I'd asked Gabby what time is was, she'd reach out and strike me. "It's almost five Aliina. Why does the time seem so trivial to you today? You've never wondered the hour before." She questioned. I struggled to cover the stutter in my voice. "I-I just wanted to get to bed early tonight. I've found I lack energy to finish dresses in the speed I used to." I told her. Gabby clicked her tongue. "Alright then."

I was about to explain myself further but found myself suddenly derailed from my thoughts when the cry of a violin sliced through the air, sending a shiver down my spine into the tips of my toes. My fingers froze over the sleeves I'd been sewing, and my body stiffened. The wailing continued until a final note was stretched out, beautifully reverberating off the walls and surrounding me in a shroud of sound.

My eyes fluttered closed at the sound. It was...heartbreaking. I felt my heart start to race as more notes drifted into the air, and I could just see it in my mind, the bow running across the strings, back and forth pulling that lovely sound forward and shaking the very breaths I in took.

_**"I gave you, my music...made your song take wing..." **_

My eyes snapped open at the voice again, my gasp quiet audible. "Aliina? Are you alright?" Gabriella asked, but her words were muffled by the dark velvet voice.

_**"Say you'll share with me, one love...one life time..."**_

I could feel each cold intake of breath as I struggled to breathe evenly. My hands started to shake, and a warmth pooled in my stomach, pulling forth another gasp from my usually sublet and quiet mouth. "Aliina! What's wrong?" Gabriella asked, her voice very close to my face. I could feel her breath on my cheek, and her hands shaking my shoulders.

_**"And now, how you've repaid me...denied me and betrayed me..."**_

"Aliina! Please! Speak to me, Aliina!" Gabriella shouted. My eyes suddenly filled with tears at the cracking voice that hung in the air. I could hear him sob, feel his chest shake as the violin ended, so did the song. I slowly lifted a hand to my face, and was shocked to find my cheek wet with tears. I turned towards Gabriella who was still shaking me. "I'm fine now, please stop." I told her calmly.

She did not release my shoulders until I smiled, "I told you, I'm lacking in energy that is all." She mumbled something under her breath and went back to her pantaloons.

I continued to stare blankly into my hands, clutching the dress rather tightly. I'd heard the violin, I was sure of it, but where it had come from continued to baffle me. I knew, for a fact, that my hearing was dominant among the others, but the violin drifted through the air like a leaf, surely someone else _must_ have heard it. I could be the only one hearing ghosts.

**A**t seven, I put away all my work things and decided to wait just a fraction longer for Marcus. When my feet started to hurt from standing on them too long, I sighed and decided he was indeed, not coming. _I shouldn't be feeling this deflated. He is, after all, just a strange man I'd barley met. _I told myself, yet I couldn't get his words out of my head.

_"__Your name has become a most treasured item I cannot wait to covet for myself."_

"Just fancy words to woo a poor girl." I muttered to myself. The other girls had gone to bed and Gabby was out on stage talking to the chief of the props, the young and described to me as incredibly dangerous to the heart looking was a new treat on Gabby's plate. With a sigh, I turned to the washroom when I heard the violin screech. It caused me to flinch and gasp, clutching the railing beside me.

"Aliina, are you alright?" A voice behind me, Tarla asked. I nodded at her, "Just lost my footing for a moment." I smiled at her and she patted my shoulder and left me. He was haunting me in my dreams and now when I walk awake. I must find him tonight.

**I** entered my bedroom and felt around for my night robe, unlacing my dress and pulling my hair off my hot shoulders, I washed my face and almost forgot the reason for my doubt earlier, until something pounded twice on my window. Jumping at the sudden sound, I turned towards it and raised a hesitant hand towards the cold glass. Placing my hand on the pane softly, I heard it.

_**"Silently the senses, abandon their **__**defenses…"**_

I felt my stomach flutter.

_**"Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor…"**_

Surely someone else is hearing this, too!

_**"And listen to, the music of the night..."**_

My feet stayed nailed to the floor, I turned from the window and towards the sound of piano riffs filling the silent air around me. My eyes fluttered closed, blocking out the fuzzy light they'd once absorbed. The song went just as fast as it came.

It was driving me mad! The constant music in the air, the warmth that filled my stomach when it sounded, and the fire that raced in my veins from the voice. I absolutely must find the source.

After the rest of the girls had bade each other goodnight and said their prayers, I pretended to already have been asleep and kept my breathing steady without remembering that I was about to explore the Opera House at night. It wasn't as frightening as it seemed, I was already in the dark, so I expect a little darker mindset might help find this maestro in the dark.

"Goodnight, Aliina." Gabriella called quietly towards me. I imagine she knew I was awake but kept it to herself.

I waited a good two hours before even opening my eyes, and once the first snore entered the air I knew I was safe. Rolling back the bed covers slowly, I sat up and pulled my walking cane out from under my bed while pulling on my work slippers. After fastening my cloak about my shoulders, I slowly made my way towards the door of the bedroom but froze in my spot when the old wood creaked below my feet. My breath caught in my throat, but not I could not hear a single girl move. Releasing the breath, I opened the door and shut it behind me.

"If there was ever a time to play, Phantom Maestro, now would be the opportune time." I whispered into the dark and suddenly felt extremely foolish. If anyone heard me they'd think me daft. I knew there was someone playing the beautiful music somewhere, I had heard it on more than one account. Once my decent down the stairs ended, I was now faced with the unknown of the direction in which to follow. No music was being played and it was becoming frustrating. "How can I get you to play?" I wondered aloud. Knowing it was dark was not a problem for me, I had memorized my way around the opera house, but I lived in a constant state of darkness. This idea of nighttime had never made a difference to me. Feeling my way around the backstage sets and boxes, I reached out a hesitant hand and found the velvet curtain. Once I found the center, I pushed myself through its heavy hangings and walked forward until my cane touched the lip of the stage.

"Alright Maestro, I'm here." I whispered.

No sound was made but my breathing.

I moved to the other side of the stage to the small stairs that led into the orchestra pit. Half way down the stairs, I heard the violent pounding of an organ. Crude and awful chords rang through the air, causing me to jump and tumble down the last five steps and land on my leg badly. Hissing at the pain in my ankle, I picked myself up and dusted off my skirts, then reached for my dropped cane, but when my fingers didn't brush against the smooth wood, my heart began to race and the panic set in.

"Oh damn!" I cursed, knowing I couldn't get very far without it. I turned slowly on my knees reaching out and feeling around for the walking stick. When I finally felt hopeless, more cruel chords sounded from below me.

_**"Damn you…curse you!"**_

_**"No you cannot ever be free!"**_

_** "Foolish Girl…Learn your place!"**_

The voice chilled my bones. Usually the flame they set in my blood was iced over in seconds from the harsh tone of his voice. I gasped and started to back towards the staircase. **"WHO IS THERE?!"** A voice shouted upwards. My mouth dried and my hands started to shake. **"LEAVE ME BE!"** His voice bounced off the short walls of the orchestra pit and shook me when they hit me, harsh and cold.

I finally backed into the staircase, and once my feet found the bottom step, I crawled up the stairs and dashed across the stage, as quickly as I could with my injured ankle until I met the curtain. My mind was racing with the words of the stage hand earlier, _"Like yellow __parchment is his skin, a great black hole serves as the nose that….never grew."_ His raspy voice taunted us at night with terrible stories. I couldn't find the center seam of the velvet river and started to panic, but finally my fingers met seams and I almost wept in joy. Once through the curtain, I stopped suddenly, knowing without my walking stick it was going to be close to impossible to get to the staircase upstairs and into my bedchambers. My eyes started to sting with the tears I refused to shed.

. "Madam?" A softer voice called towards me. I spun towards the sound and felt a hand grasp mine. Shrieking, I yanked my hand away. "Please don't fret it's me, Sir Spaniard." I sighed and hastily wiped my eyes. "What in the name of God are you doing in the dark, Miss?" Marcus asked. I started to speak, but only sobbed. I've never felt so confused and frightened before. Marcus's hands grasped mine and held them tightly, "Please don't cry. What is wrong?" I shook my head, and instead of welcoming his warmth, I pulled my hands away and folded my arms. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." I said quietly.

Marcus found the tops of my arms in the dark, "I could try." He whispered. I shivered at the memory of the booming voice. "I've been hearing things." I said. He said nothing. "Music and singing and a voice that I used to believe was warm and good, but it's only harsh and angry." I was rambling with a shaky voice. "Music? What kind?" Marcus asked. I took a deep breath, "The wail of a violin and the harsh chords of an organ and sometimes a piano. He sings of loss and anger Marcus. I'm frightened, and I hate it. It makes me feel weak."

Marcus's hands tightened on mine, "Does he sing of Christine?" He asked. I felt my head snap up to his, "How do you know of Christine?" I asked him. He pulled me close in the dark and wrapped his arms around me. I gasped at the sudden closeness. "I've been waiting almost three years for someone else to hear the violin." He whispered. I opened my mouth to speak, but instead whispered, "You hear it, too?" I asked. He nodded silently. "But how?" I asked. Marus released me but held me close, I could feel his breath on my cheeks. "Meet me at the café down the road for breakfast and I'll tell you all about it." He promised.

I nodded my head. Jay released my shoulders and started to walk away, before I remembered something that caused my pride some pain. "Misure Spaniard?" I called quietly. I heard him turn towards me. "Yes, Miss?" He asked. I looked down at my feet, and felt the blood rush to my cheeks. "I seemed to misplace my walking stick, and I've injured my ankle. Would you help me find the staircase?" I asked.

A chuckle sounded in the air between us, and suddenly the space was replaced with my gasp as I was lifted off my feet and held against a chest. "Set me down!" I cried. Marcus laughed, "Madam, at least allow me some chivalry." He whispered into my temple. He was very close to me, constantly. He didn't seem to mind boundaries, which was a very American quality he possessed. After we reached the top of the stairs, Marcus set me down and patted my shoulders. "Sleep well, Madam. I promise to make more sense of this ordeal tomorrow morning over tea and croissants, do not fret over the violin any longer, I am here and I will protect you." I listened to him descend the staircase and walk backstage.

This night hadn't gone as planned at all. Suddenly, I heard a quiet woman's voice echo through the air.

_**"Oh God if I agree, what horrors wait for me?"**_

I clasped my palms over my ears, shutting out the sound. Ghosts couldn't possibly be real, but it was becoming more and more difficult to believe.


End file.
